


Half of My Heartbeat

by TAETIONARY



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Chronic Illness, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fainting, Hospitals, M/M, Needles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-05
Updated: 2020-05-05
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:00:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24027793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TAETIONARY/pseuds/TAETIONARY
Summary: When fashion runways turn to running to the ER, Remy Aislynn and his lover Emile must try to cope with the devastating truths of chronic conditions, and how this turn of events in their seemingly perfect lives will affect their work, friendships, mental states, and relationship. Incurable illnesses are not for the faint of heart... and management is never as easy as it seems. But there's always light at the end of the tunnel, right?
Relationships: Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders/Deceit Sanders, Dr. Emile Picani/Sleep | Remy Sanders
Comments: 9
Kudos: 14





	Half of My Heartbeat

_⠀ ⋮⠀ ⋮⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ ⋮_

_♡ ⠀⠀ ⋮⠀⠀⠀♡⠀⠀⠀ ⋮_

_♡⠀⠀ ⋮⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ ♡_

_♡⠀⠀⠀ ⋮_

_⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ ♡_

**_𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝙲𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝 : Roughly 10,000_ **

**_𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝙲𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝 : Roughly 60,000_ **

**_𝕋𝕣𝕚𝕘𝕘𝕖𝕣 𝕎𝕒𝕣𝕟𝕚𝕟𝕘_ **

_This story includes the following themes and/or mentions:_

_Hospitals_

_Needle and IV Usage_

_Cursing_

_Fainting_

_Overall Mature, Possibly Sadder Themes_

_[TBD]_

**_Sʜɪᴘs ༆︎_ **

_Remile_

_Background Roceit_

_╲⠀╲⠀╲_ _╲_

_⠀ ╲⠀╲⠀♡︎ ⠀ ╲ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀_

_⠀ ⠀ ⠀♡︎⠀ ╲⠀⠀ ⠀ ♡︎_

_⠀⠀ ♡︎_

_〭〭〬〬⿻❥〬〬 〬ꦿ Eyes flickered open as if a breath of life had been sent from the heavens to cling him to this existence he had. A miracle in the making, a steady thumping of a zoetic heartbeat, and the delicate sensation of touch resting on his fingertips, all the way down to the tips of his toes. Dazzling white light greeted the male, overwhelming the near-lifeless gaze of his. Shaky, unsteady hands laced intricately with different colored wires, moving across an ocean of air to shield his vision as the soft hum of a nearby machine flooded his ears. This... This reality, what was it? What was going on?_

_Pain, he felt the pain. Everything hurt. From all-over aches, to quick, sharp thrusts of individual stabbing pains in certain areas of his body. The air was being blocked from his lungs by a lump in his throat as he struggled in getting oxygen into his system. Monitors beeped ferociously, pounding into his ears and throbbing through him entirely. His hands fell to his sides as he lost the strength to lift them. The blinding glare from above faded in and out, battling with a familiar black and fuzzy unconsciousness. He knew something was wrong, and it was. But in that kind of state, no one, not even the strongest of souls can be brave enough to fight, or brave enough to care what their fate will be. All he could do is stare, stare and wait. How long would it be? Seconds? Minutes? Hours? Days? Weeks? Months? Years? He didn't know, or even let himself care. Not until he heard the voices._

_"Heart rate's up, must be awake. Get the Doctor in here immediately."_

_Doc... Doctor?_

_The next thing that he could remember was being poked, tiny needles covering most of his arms. Crystal colored liquids went in, crimson, murky blood came out. Someone was holding his hand, and through the thrill of it all, he didn't know. No, he didn't know. How could he have known? Why didn't he know? What was going on? What was happening? Why was this happening? The suspense was both killing him and- not bothering him at all. Inside, there was a sense of the two, though conflicting, indescribable and beautifully cruel, and in the end, he'd never fully understand it. Never._

_Unlike the movies where someone would be panicked, speaking, talking, crying, screaming, Remy was still. He could barely move to begin with, and he had no will to. Questions would occasionally float through his head, but then be immediately put to rest by the sickeningly sweet, singsong melody of the ringing that was calling him to sleep. Sleep, he wouldn't, but it was what he wanted right now. Forget about what was happening to his body, he had a place of peace in the dark._

_It took him several more minutes, and several medicines being pumped into his veins, before Remy was actually, truly alive. His breath came back to him, the pounding in him stopped, specifically in his throat, and in soon after, his heart. Everything stopped, and he was awake. Taking in a few deep breaths, he finally let the words roll off his tongue with every ounce of newfound strength he had. "What... Happened?"_

_Emile was there the whole time. Watching. Waiting. Two hours ago, everything was fine. Now his love, his beloved, Runway-Ready Remy plummeted. That proud stage he walked on- strided on, and now, he fell on. No warning, no explanation. He could almost remember the look he got while sitting in the audience right before he collapsed. He knew, he didn't stop. He didn't sit down as the jet-black pupils of his eyes dilated, swallowing the light of his icy, almost silver color that normally took the lead. His proud smirk, that smile he had, it did not fall into a frown. It only dipped, slightly, the corners of his mouth no longer upturned. They rested, flat and even with his cherry glossed lips. Everything, he did everything he could to not show his pain, to not let his spirit fall. But he fell, and nothing would ever be the same._

_«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»_

_The morning came, and Remy sat upright in the bed. White, everything was white. The thin white sheets covering his frigid, pale white skin as the white air-conditioner blasted with frosty ferocity all around him. Hospitals were kept cold to slow the growth of viruses and bacteria, as he would learn in the coming months. Cold and white, like a freshly fallen snow on a December morning. Snow was usually perceived as being innocent, though. This was cold, but empty and numb. He could feel his blood struggling through certain parts of his body with every movement. Rushes of cold, and then warmth, and yet it hurt. Like a thousand tiny, tingling knives prickling their way through him. At least he could breathe, at least the ache within his heart was seemingly gone for now. He hadn't been thinking much, he didn't care all that much, even now. It was as if his soul was sucked out of him, and yet, he was still alive._

_Emile opened the door, slowly. White flowers of an unknown origin were bunched up in his hand. No ribbons or plastic wrap, no bells or whistles. Just white flowers, in a small, clear-ish emerald colored vase. The water splashed around inside with every movement. A sad but soft grin hugged on his face as he approached the other's bed. They hadn't spoken yet, not since yesterday. Remy wasn't in the state for it. He set the flowers on the bedside table and hopped up on the edge of the bed. "Hi there, darling," started him off, simply and plainly. "How... How are things?"_

_Remy wasn't sure how to respond, at first. He didn't really have to be a functioning human yet, not until now. Time to get out of the fog. "They're- they're fine. They're great..." He let his sentence trail off. He lifted his hands once more, twisting his wrists in all sorts of ways to see the wires that were embedded into him. Finally, the delayed question found the motivation to come out. "Hey doll? Why are we here? What happened?"_

_"Hey now. Don't go looking so grim. Everything is going to be fine." The cardigan-wearing school teacher spoke. He ran a hand through his boyfriend's chocolate colored hair. Normally Remy would resist for the sake of his 'aesthetic', but he let it happen. It felt nice. "The doctors said you were probably just dehydrated and- you collapsed at the fashion show. Luckily you didn't hit your head hard enough to get a concussion. Do you remember all of this, dear?"_

_Remember. Yes, he could do that. He was backstage wearing the new Lá Modé trench coat. It was the Winter collection debut show... Oh if there was even a scratch on that thing he'd be dead. He'd be fired, have to find a new modeling agency. "Yeah, I remember." But he was fine. He was fine backstage. Didn't he have a cup of water before going out? That was like, instilled in his mind ever since his first job. Go to the bathroom before putting on the outfit, and drink water fifteen minutes before going on. The unspoken rule of fashion._

_Well, maybe he just forgot. Or he didn't drink enough during the rest of the day. Still, he wasn't quite convinced that he'd be so careless. A gut feeling told him it wasn't quite right. "And you're sure nothing else showed up on the blood tests?" The model asked raising an eyebrow to his lover. A nod from Emile, and he let out a sigh of relief. So he was just being paranoid. Well, that was good to hear- the being fine part, not the paranoid bit. That was Virgil's game, not his. Oh if the others found out that he was here... He'd never hear the end of it._

_"They kept you here last night because you were pretty drained, and when you first woke up, you were so panicked that your heart rate went up, though you probably don't remember that bit. But everything is normal now, so we can go home whenever the doctor comes back in to take the IV out." Emile spoke, a pleased look on his face. "I bet you're dying to get out of here already, huh?" The twenty-three-year-old inquired, a knowing smirk soon taking the place of his previously neutral expression._

_He did remember. Not entirely. He remembered the feeling, and it was not fear. But who was he to judge? It could have been a weird hallucination type of thing. He was mostly unconscious the whole time. So he wouldn't say anything. Not yet anyways._

_"God yes." Remy exclaimed, throwing up his hands in frustration. He took a hold of his hospital clothes' sleeve and frantically waved it in his partner's face."Whoever said polka-dots on a nightgown was a good idea, they're on my list of disownment!"_

_Emile giggled, "Still about the fashion... You're really something there, Dancing Queen."_

_"Better believe it, Vanilla Bean." The model pulled the other's face towards his. Remy was direct, and was a man who knew what he wanted. Right now, what he wanted was a kiss, and Emile knew it too. They had a certain type of chemistry that was so perfect it was almost illegal. They always knew what the other wanted, needed, and longed for. So Emile was there to comply, more than willing to show his affection to his secretly soft soulmate._

_That's when the Doctor came in._

_«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»_

_And so, he was discharged. No medications, no follow-ups, just a recommendation to drink some more water and to take it easy for a few days. He was back to his normal schedule, shows three times a week, photo shoots on the other two, and a 'free' weekend to hang out with his friends, but mostly extreme shopping. If there was a sale at Sephora, he was there at three in the morning ready to fight anyone who stood in his way, and an Emile who was unfortunately almost always dragged along. Apparently, he was like his lover's, ‘preschool war-inclined toddlers that were actually teenagers,’ when he wanted the newest trends. He had a water bottle in his leather jacket's pocket every time he went out, which prompted the suspicion of almost all of his friends and coworkers. Everyone knew he was a caffeine addict, but that was another one of his 'recommendations'. Drink less coffee. He didn't tell them, because it wasn't important. The first week back in his life was hell, and everyone around him saw he lost the pep in his step._

_But it wasn't the lack of caffeine that was doing this._

_𝙶𝚎𝚗𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚕𝚒𝚣𝚎𝚍 𝙵𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚐𝚞𝚎_

_Things were pretty normal for the next month or so, other than a tiredness he just couldn't shake. Emile said he'd been working himself too hard, but he wasn't doing anything he previously found to be too tedious. It wasn't that bad though, not really much reason to complain. Roman told him he was starting to look like a ghost, but he just chalked that up to him being a jerk. Of course, they wouldn't get off the hook so easily without a sass-driven remark. That was assurance enough that he was still on top of his game, because he could easily roast the hell out of anyone if they deserved it._

_Emile had gone off to work at the local High School earlier that morning. He slept in, because it was his day off. Surprisingly he had a lot of those, the fashion business was always indecisive, but it wasn't like he didn't enjoy a surprise day of doing what he wanted. He was still tired, and he decided maybe he just needed some more sleep. It was a surprise when woke up at 11 AM, normally he got up at 8. But no, still tired, try again. So he closed his eyes and sat in his bed, waiting to be taken away into sleepy-town. 11:15, 11:30, 11:45, 12:00. Did he sleep during any of that? No, he kept looking at the clock. He never had a problem going back to sleep before- he was the Sleep Queen. Beauty rest was real, and he fully believed that the more he slept, the more beautiful he was. He was a rock when he slept, being quite honest. He's slept through several fire alarm scares of Emile's impulsive 6 AM baking. The fact that he was awake was strange, after all, he was tired. Why wasn't he dozing off?_

_Well, it was noon. Remy had to get up at some point. Yawning, he threw off the warm covers, shuddering a bit at the sudden rush of cold air against his body. Standing up, the male noticed almost immediately that he was off balance. It was like he was being pulled in all sorts of directions. Painful ringing once again flooded his ears in waves. In and out. Black spots taunted him as his vision gave out, but only for a few seconds. Then, it just stopped. He was still standing, and everything was normal again._

_That- well he's heard of that happening to some people he knew. He probably just needed to eat or something. The model slept so long that he hadn't eaten anything in a hot while. Eight to twelve...ish that was four whole extra hours to not eat. Considering he went to bed at 8 PM, that's four hours to 12 AM, eight hours to 8 AM, and four extra hours to 12 PM. Eight and eight... unless he'd totally forgotten all math he'd ever learned, that was sixteen hours. Sixteen hours without eating or drinking, that had to be it. Remy shifted back on his bed, momentarily. Grabbing the water bottle he kept on his night stand, the twenty-four-year-old chugged it down. All of it, in one go, and yet, he was still thirsty._

_Remy waited about ten minutes before getting up again. Normal, no dizziness. It had to be the dehydration, then. Even though he still felt dehydrated, he probably just needed more water. He knew you weren't really supposed to down a whole bottle of water at once anyways, you were supposed to gradually take sips. The male knew his stuff, but god was he parched. Not necessarily in the throat or anything, just, generally, all over lack of- saturation? Was he a plant now? It was a bit difficult to explain._

_𝙲𝚑𝚛𝚘𝚗𝚒𝚌 𝙳𝚎𝚑𝚢𝚍𝚛𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗_

_The model meticulously made his way to the living room couch. It felt like a century just to get there. He grabbed the remote from off the coffee table and switched on the large flat-screen just across from where he sat. He knew exactly what he wanted on, Wedding Wars. He got to see both the ugliest and most beautiful wedding gowns in a single episode, and the drama was real. Real as reality TV gets, that is. Dresses were nice and all- or not, but he was always more invested in the tux designs. Black and classic was basic, he liked a suit with its own flare, like the monochrome brush stroke effect one of his suits from an earlier show had. White with black strokes strategically placed in a beautiful arrangement. Why wasn't there a show about wedding tuxes? Maybe he should make one._

_Food, right. That's what he came down here for. He was pretty sure there was some leftover sandwich stuff in the fridge. The male majestically trudged like a dead-man over to the kitchen island, a bit out of breath by the time he got there. Just... Just needed something in his system, he was running on next to nothing... Sighing, he opened the door to his refrigerator. He poured himself a cup of cold water and took more rationed sips as he searched for the other things he needed for his brunch. Bread, ham, cheese, lettuce- yeah that would do. Quickly, he piled his food and stuffed it between the two slices of sub-par, cheap bread. At least it was edible and probably healthy._

_When his meal was complete, he made his way back to his show. Two brides were fighting over some dress, and he was missing it. It was an ugly dress, absolutely hideous, but boy was it entertaining. Jessica and Rachel were really going at it, and he felt bad for the two grooms in the corner who were just having a normal conversation. This was the peak of crappy, cliche distractions from life. Roman was probably watching too, this was their obligatory binge show, and he was pretty sure the local theater was closed for repairs today. Maybe he should text him? They were BFFs (Best Flamboyant Fashionistas) and the day was as dull as dull could be. Roman had a short span of patience too, he was probably dying alone or something. The extrovert he was- it was almost unfair._

_«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»_

_²² ᴺᵉʷ ᴹᵉˢˢᵃᵍᵉˢ_

_[𝓟𝓻𝓪𝓬𝓽𝓲𝓬𝓪𝓵𝓵𝔂𝓟𝓮𝓻𝓯𝓮𝓬𝓽𝓘𝓷𝓔𝓿𝓮𝓻𝔂𝓦𝓪𝔂] GREETINGS AND SALUGAYTIONS FELLOW COMRADE_

_[𝓟𝓻𝓪𝓬𝓽𝓲𝓬𝓪𝓵𝓵𝔂𝓟𝓮𝓻𝓯𝓮𝓬𝓽𝓘𝓷𝓔𝓿𝓮𝓻𝔂𝓦𝓪𝔂] HELLLOOOOO THERE!_

_[𝓟𝓻𝓪𝓬𝓽𝓲𝓬𝓪𝓵𝓵𝔂𝓟𝓮𝓻𝓯𝓮𝓬𝓽𝓘𝓷𝓔𝓿𝓮𝓻𝔂𝓦𝓪𝔂] TIS A FINE MORNING FOR SOME CONVERSATION_

_[𝓟𝓻𝓪𝓬𝓽𝓲𝓬𝓪𝓵𝓵𝔂𝓟𝓮𝓻𝓯𝓮𝓬𝓽𝓘𝓷𝓔𝓿𝓮𝓻𝔂𝓦𝓪𝔂] I'M BECKONING YOU TO BECOME ALIVE_

_[𝓟𝓻𝓪𝓬𝓽𝓲𝓬𝓪𝓵𝓵𝔂𝓟𝓮𝓻𝓯𝓮𝓬𝓽𝓘𝓷𝓔𝓿𝓮𝓻𝔂𝓦𝓪𝔂] Excuse me why aren't you answering my beckons?!?!_

_[𝓟𝓻𝓪𝓬𝓽𝓲𝓬𝓪𝓵𝓵𝔂𝓟𝓮𝓻𝓯𝓮𝓬𝓽𝓘𝓷𝓔𝓿𝓮𝓻𝔂𝓦𝓪𝔂] Runway I'm so boooored_

_[𝓟𝓻𝓪𝓬𝓽𝓲𝓬𝓪𝓵𝓵𝔂𝓟𝓮𝓻𝓯𝓮𝓬𝓽𝓘𝓷𝓔𝓿𝓮𝓻𝔂𝓦𝓪𝔂] You're either taking beauty sleep to a new level or you're iGNOrInG mE_

_[𝓟𝓻𝓪𝓬𝓽𝓲𝓬𝓪𝓵𝓵𝔂𝓟𝓮𝓻𝓯𝓮𝓬𝓽𝓘𝓷𝓔𝓿𝓮𝓻𝔂𝓦𝓪𝔂] R_

_[𝓟𝓻𝓪𝓬𝓽𝓲𝓬𝓪𝓵𝓵𝔂𝓟𝓮𝓻𝓯𝓮𝓬𝓽𝓘𝓷𝓔𝓿𝓮𝓻𝔂𝓦𝓪𝔂] E_

_[𝓟𝓻𝓪𝓬𝓽𝓲𝓬𝓪𝓵𝓵𝔂𝓟𝓮𝓻𝓯𝓮𝓬𝓽𝓘𝓷𝓔𝓿𝓮𝓻𝔂𝓦𝓪𝔂] M_

_[𝓟𝓻𝓪𝓬𝓽𝓲𝓬𝓪𝓵𝓵𝔂𝓟𝓮𝓻𝓯𝓮𝓬𝓽𝓘𝓷𝓔𝓿𝓮𝓻𝔂𝓦𝓪𝔂] Y_

_**ᶜˡⁱᶜᵏ ᵗᵒ ⱽⁱᵉʷ ᴹᵒʳᵉ ᴹᵉˢˢᵃᵍᵉˢ** _

**_Called it, he totally called it._ **

_[𝚉𝚣𝚣𝚁𝚞𝚗𝚠𝚊𝚢𝚁𝚎𝚖𝚢𝚣𝚣𝚉] bitch whatchu want_

_[𝓟𝓻𝓪𝓬𝓽𝓲𝓬𝓪𝓵𝓵𝔂𝓟𝓮𝓻𝓯𝓮𝓬𝓽𝓘𝓷𝓔𝓿𝓮𝓻𝔂𝓦𝓪𝔂] OH MY GOD YOU'RE ALIVE :D_

_[𝓟𝓻𝓪𝓬𝓽𝓲𝓬𝓪𝓵𝓵𝔂𝓟𝓮𝓻𝓯𝓮𝓬𝓽𝓘𝓷𝓔𝓿𝓮𝓻𝔂𝓦𝓪𝔂] I THOUGHT YOU DIED_

_[𝓟𝓻𝓪𝓬𝓽𝓲𝓬𝓪𝓵𝓵𝔂𝓟𝓮𝓻𝓯𝓮𝓬𝓽𝓘𝓷𝓔𝓿𝓮𝓻𝔂𝓦𝓪𝔂] HOW DARE YOU IGNORE MY SUMMONING_

_[𝓟𝓻𝓪𝓬𝓽𝓲𝓬𝓪𝓵𝓵𝔂𝓟𝓮𝓻𝓯𝓮𝓬𝓽𝓘𝓷𝓔𝓿𝓮𝓻𝔂𝓦𝓪𝔂] What were you doing that you weren't answering moi???_

_[𝚉𝚣𝚣𝚁𝚞𝚗𝚠𝚊𝚢𝚁𝚎𝚖𝚢𝚣𝚣𝚉] sleepin_

_[𝓟𝓻𝓪𝓬𝓽𝓲𝓬𝓪𝓵𝓵𝔂𝓟𝓮𝓻𝓯𝓮𝓬𝓽𝓘𝓷𝓔𝓿𝓮𝓻𝔂𝓦𝓪𝔂] foR SIXTEEN HOURS?!?!?!_

_[𝚉𝚣𝚣𝚁𝚞𝚗𝚠𝚊𝚢𝚁𝚎𝚖𝚢𝚣𝚣𝚉] revel in it baby,,, you watching jess and rachel go at it?_

_[𝓟𝓻𝓪𝓬𝓽𝓲𝓬𝓪𝓵𝓵𝔂𝓟𝓮𝓻𝓯𝓮𝓬𝓽𝓘𝓷𝓔𝓿𝓮𝓻𝔂𝓦𝓪𝔂] For heaven's sake Rachel just let it go you had a perfectly good dress before!_

_[𝚉𝚣𝚣𝚁𝚞𝚗𝚠𝚊𝚢𝚁𝚎𝚖𝚢𝚣𝚣𝚉] new dress is ugly too lol, not worth the pricetag_

_[𝓟𝓻𝓪𝓬𝓽𝓲𝓬𝓪𝓵𝓵𝔂𝓟𝓮𝓻𝓯𝓮𝓬𝓽𝓘𝓷𝓔𝓿𝓮𝓻𝔂𝓦𝓪𝔂] Right!?!?! Hey when this is done you wanna meet up somewhere?_

_[𝓟𝓻𝓪𝓬𝓽𝓲𝓬𝓪𝓵𝓵𝔂𝓟𝓮𝓻𝓯𝓮𝓬𝓽𝓘𝓷𝓔𝓿𝓮𝓻𝔂𝓦𝓪𝔂] Dee works at a cafe in the city center we could go to!_

_[𝚉𝚣𝚣𝚁𝚞𝚗𝚠𝚊𝚢𝚁𝚎𝚖𝚢𝚣𝚣𝚉] K grab your helmet, we'll take viper be out in 10_

_«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»_

_As soon as the end credits were on screen, Remy got up. On the wall hung his black leather jacket and a sleek, shiny helmet of the same dark coloring. Inside the pockets of his jacket, he pulled out his pair of fully opaque dark shades and covered up his light-sensitive eyes. Cafe, huh? He hadn't had caffeine in a good while. He cut back, as he was told, and severely. Maybe one cup a week now, and nothing too strong. He knew his old habits were unhealthy, so he cut them out. Remy had to be in optimal conditions for his work. It was... an extremely difficult separation from his addiction, but he was getting more sleep now anyways, so it balanced out in the long run. Vanilla Bean Latte... He was coming._

_When he made his way out into the rest of civilization, Roman was literally outside of his door, making him jump slightly upon seeing the other. "Jesus-! You've gone from annoying to stalker mode. Not a good look on you sweetheart." The model spoke, crossing his arms. "I knew having a penthouse next to you was a bad decision. Remind me to move one of these days, far away. Far enough so you won't find me, but close enough to the agency. You'll have to stand outside my work and wait like all of my other fans, and maybe I'll acknowledge you someday."_

_"Sorry your penthouse choices are limited, fashion disaster." The theater-bound twin replied, jealously rolling his eyes. "You are unfortunately stuck living next to the great Roman Kingston, future Broadway extraordinaire!" He boasted, pride flowing through him with every slight movement as he dramatically threw up a twisting, twirling hand for emphasis. It had become a custom, a habit even, to express literally everything in the world with his entire being. What those acting classes had done to him over the years, it was scary. There was a distinguishable difference between flaunting and being too forward. Poor guy was diving too deep, but at least he still had a good taste in clothes so Remy didn't have much to complain about._

_"Excuse me, hun, how great can you be? You don't own a car- or literally anything that you can use for transportation." The clad-in-black clothed male smirked, fastening the clips on his helmet as he spoke. The chin strap to it was an add on, Emile made him get them for extra safety precautions. Did he argue? No. He didn't want to worry his boyfriend any more than he had to when he went for a drive, especially since they lived in a major city. "Chasing your dreams shouldn't leave you absolutely broke."_

_"Like you're one to talk, Mr. Instant Famous Model. How can YOU be a fashion influencer and only wear like, the same white shirt and black jacket everywhere, huh?!?!" Roman sneered, bitterly. "And I'll have you know my career is going to take off soon, I can feel it!" The actor insisted, flipping his helmet's face shield over his eyes. There was soundproofing inside of his head gear, so it was slightly more difficult for Remy to hear the other's loudness. Yet, today, he was still loud. Louder than usual, it was giving him a headache. Or maybe it was the light, he was always a victim to it- but he was wearing his glasses._

_"As much as I would love to sit and bitch here with you all day, I want my coffee. Are we going or are we going? As you can see, you don't have a choice." The model teased, swinging his leg over his glisteningly silver chrome bike. Viper, one of his favorites. Powerful, and in control. That's how he felt when he had a steady grip on her, and the world would fly by. Bare hands wrapped around the slightly scratched handlebars. Normally he'd have gloves on, but he was getting a new pair because his other ones got stolen from his dressing room by a couple of his fans. A very long post about privacy and personal belongings was posted on his social media afterwards, and he was still salty about the whole thing. Clearing his mind from the unpleasant memory, he patted the empty part of the seat, expectantly looking at his friend. "Get on, or you're being left here and I'll go visit your boyfriend myself. But if he fucks up my order, you're both being shunned."_

_"Wait just a moment, ferocious fad. What if I wanted to drive? I have my license too you know." Roman proposed, walking to the front of the bike with his hands on his hip. "Besides, you don't even know where you're going- AND I'M NOT GOING TO TELL YOU~!" The male teetered around in circles, a singsong voice accompanying his half-badgering, half-pleading mannerisms. As if he had a death wish, he took a hand and playfully flicked the model's nose in his spontaneous and energetic habit. "The only way you're getting there is if you let me driiive! And I know how desperate you are for caffeine right now!"_

_But... Coffee..? Without much of a second thought, in his grunt-filled desperation, Remy hopped back off, huffing in a bit of an irritable tone. "Fine, go off. If you get us in an accident, I'll roast you harder than Satan would in the afterlife." The model could almost see literal sparkles in the twin's eyes as the owner of the bike was 'accidentally' pushed out of the way for Roman to climb on. A silent death sentence was mumbled under Remy's breath as he climbed onto Viper for the second time today. Should his bike get even the slightest bit scratched, he was ready to make a certain someone regret their life choices. It was his child, the closest thing he was ever getting to one, though Emile had been talking about getting a dog. That was nice and all, but dogs weren't shiny, glittery, or glamorous. Unless said dog was wearing a diamond-studded collar, he wouldn't be that impressed._

_Without much of a warning, Roman revved the engine, causing the caffeine craving male to instinctively wrap his arms around the twin's torso, holding on for dear life. The theater bound 'extraordinaire' laughed so hard, he was practically wheezing. "You..! You scared Runway- haHAHA!" He cackled, his helmet-covered head tilting back as he did so. If he wasn't protected, Remy would have slapped him right then and there. "Do you not trust your bestest friend with your life? I thought we were closer than that Rem! I'm the hero here, not the villainous ventriloquist-"_

_A glare caught the other mid-sentence. "Drive." Remy spoke, a terrifying seriousness lingering in his tone of voice._

_"Y-Yes ma'am."_

_«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»_

_The ride was- breezy. Was that right? It went like a scene in a movie, flying and still even though they were moving. Almost like a trance, or curiously looking out the window of an airplane right when you take off, when you can see how fast you're going. But only for a few seconds. He watched the blurred outlines of people gasp as the two sped by, they were probably breaking all speed limits in existence. The euphoric duo howled in a feeling of ecstasy. They were young, they were having a good time, and the police hadn't shown up. It'd been a while since either of them had just let go and had a good time. It was like all those times back in High School when they went to parties on a Friday night. Adrenaline was recklessly rushing through like a river. And yet, something still wasn't right, and he couldn't explain it. There was something in his chest that was telling him that something was off._

_When they pulled up outside the store, Roman was still laughing as he ripped off the helmet he was wearing. Remy followed, running a hand through his slightly unkempt locks. Helmet hair, a curse to his rides around town. He had that kind of, cool, laid-back vibe that was intoxicating, probably because he was a model. In all honesty underneath his sunglasses were dark circles, and he just wanted his coffee already. It would be the perfect day for it too- he needed a wake-up after that unpleasantly odd morning and/or noon. Call it what you will. He stifled a yawn as he stretched his arms over his head. It actually... hurt to do that a little bit? The fast thumping of his heartbeat from the rush of the ride hadn't died down yet either._

_An unreadable expression came onto Roman's face. "You still tired?" He asked, putting a finger to the side of his cheek. "I thought you slept for sixteen hours." The theatrical male recalled, "That's a lot of sleep." The twin took both of their helmets and placed them securely inside of the top box on the bike. Remy was lucky enough to have one of the most secure models on the market, so there was a slim chance that they had to worry about anything being stolen. Roman tossed the key to the model, who almost didn't catch them. "Man, you must really be tired. You never have problems catching things. Hard work fending off all of your fangirls or something? Oh, the tragic life of suffering for a star! I will soon feel your pain, dearest friend-"_

_"Are we going inside or not?" Remy snapped, both hands on his hips. At this point, he was actually acknowledging that he kind of felt horrible. He just needed his coffee and to sit back down. It wasn't serious or anything, he was fine. This was probably just some weird form of burnout he hadn't experienced yet. "I'll go and tell your boyfriend that you came, but found out you are too in love with yourself to come in and see him today. Don't think I won't, sis."_

_The other had his mouth hanging open in a feigned sense of shock and hurt. "Jeez, okay okay, Bethany Bitter. We're going." The tanned figure sighed, soon turning around and using a hand to mimic the other's threat, mockingly. As soon as his hidden ridiculing was done, he opened the door to the shop for the other, unspokenly fearing for what would happen if he didn't. "Lighten up, we'll get caffeine in you soon. Dee makes the best in town anyways, it'll be worth the wait."_

_The shop was standard, with the certain contemporary home-like feel. The walls were a soft yet strong brick, champagne brown hues hugging the blocks. The counter was a white stained wood, along with the slightly dusty outer rim of the chalkboard hanging overhead. A neat, cursive font in an almost pearlescent white displayed the menu along with smaller, printed pamphlets that sat beside the antique, black cash register. It was clear that it wasn't actual chalk that drew the menu, and instead, most likely a form of paint or one of those glitter pens. The place had a lot of natural light from having the store-front completely covered in tall window frames. Iron, garden-like tables sat across the other side of the store, but only a few. It was a small shop, but it certainly had charm. Remy noticed everything, and though slightly clashing, the overall theme of the place oddly worked._

_But right now, he just wanted his damn coffee._

_Dean, or Dee as everyone seemed to call him, stood behind the counter, apparently not noticing their arrival. He wiped what looked to be powdered sugar onto his black apron, not concerned for the smudges that were now stretched across the fabric. That, was a crime in its own demeanor, but for another time. The duo walked up to the counter silently, which was odd for /one/ of the party members. That was, until the Kingston twin slammed his hands on the cash register, and yelling a loud, "BOO!"_

_What he was met with was a beautifully unamused and shockingly unfazed smirk, before Dean took the towel he was holding and smacked it against the other's face. "You're lucky I knew you'd be here." Dean grumbled, putting a hand to his temples in vexation. "Couldn't stay home alone today? How did you even get here-" The cashier asked, before leaning over his significant other's shoulder. "Nevermind, I see now. Hello Remy, how are you?" He inquired, getting an equally as grumbly response. Seems they'd both fallen victim to Roman's 'charms'. "You dragged poor Remy out on his day off for this?"_

_Without much of a warning, Roman's entire attitude changed. He bit the bottom of his lip, leaning in towards the other. "...You know why I don't want to be alone today, Jan, and neither do you, I know you don't." He whispered, a bit of a sullen ring to his hushed tone. Then, as if he was a beach ball, he bounced right back, literally. "And he needs to be here! He hasn't had caffeine in days! He slept for sixteen hours and is still tired! Dare I say, he's washed up drier than a well in the middle of the desert! He needs the good stuff!"_

_"Sixteen hours Rem?" Dean pondered it in his mind for a few seconds. He wondered briefly if Emile had anything to do with it, though of course, that wasn't his business. The barista leaned himself off his elbows that were now resting on the top of the counter, taking a good, long look at Remy's figure. He was slightly paler than usual, a little more on edge in his movements as well. "You do need the good stuff. How many espresso shots should I put in?"_

_"Sixteen. One for each hour of useless sleep."_

_"Calm down, edgelord. You sound like Virgil." Dean mumbled, already brewing up a drink as he heard Remy's response. He knew his regular, and he hadn't even visited him at work before. He just always got the same thing when they hung out. "I'm not giving you sixteen shots. You'll have a heart attack, and I don't want to deal with your dead body on my floor. You'll just have to live off the regular stuff." With that, the cashier turned his back as he began pouring a drink, mocha with a hint of caramel by the smell, so it had to be someone else's, probably theater-extraordinaire over there._

_Roman hissed at the sound of the name that left his boyfriend's mouth, gawking. "I thought we agreed to never say that name in our household again. Especially not today." The male offendedly twisting his arms in each other, holding them near his stomach, and averting his gaze. "He's not to be associated with the likes of us anymore..."_

_Dean put a hand to his hip. "And yet, you used my- other name in public. You know I don't like it. This isn't our household, this is my work, and if you keep pestering me for much longer, I'm going to get in trouble. Go sit down or something. We can talk about it on my break, alright?" A somewhat sad, sympathetic smile graced his lips. An equally disdained gaze met with the worker's topaz colored eyes. Looking at Roman, carefully, he saw the faintest bit of a tear roll down his boyfriend's cheek, making his heart sink, immediately. He knew it, he knew he shouldn't have come in today. Not on THE day, the day that changed everything. But he also needed to provide for their well-being, and this was the best job that was available to him at the moment. Even still... the hurt may just have to win this time. "Actually, do you need me to call off? I can finish you and Remy's orders and-"_

_A sharp gasp could be heard from the model, as he clawed at his chest. Soon his restricting hands moved to his throat as heavy and struggled breaths trying to cope with the sudden pain. He heaved over, barely staying on his two feet as his hearing became engulfed in a loud, beating down ringing. He only heard the muffled calls of Roman for roughly ten seconds. He felt a drop, inside of him. It felt like he was falling from a thousand feet, but he stood. Mixed, fading emotions pulsed through his mind as he didn't know what to do. Remy felt the faint touch of someone he couldn't see as everything started to fade into a sickening black static. His glasses had fallen off, and though he couldn't see it for himself, the silvery luminescence that normally shone through his eyes, was swallowed wholly by the dark black inners of his pupils. Holding onto the last bit of his jumbled state of consciousness, he couldn't help but think how peaceful, and how nice the darkness was. It was his friend. It wasn't going to hurt him._

_He was completely out by the time his legs collapsed from underneath him, and Roman desperately pulled his body into his own embrace before he hit the ground completely. The absolutely horrified twin was kneeling at this point, holding the other's head against his chest. His eyes darted left and right, and then back to his friend, calling his name desperately and shaking him, "Remy!?!? Remy can you hear me!?!?" He choked out, audibly distressed. He covered his mouth with a hand, taking a few deep breaths. No, don't panic... don't panic! He was still breathing, right?! Seeing his chest rising and falling, somehow, it didn't make him feel any less manic. "Janus call the ambulance!"_

_Dean ran out from behind the counter, kneeling down with his cell phone in hand. "Stop SHAKING HIM DAMMIT!" His unsteady hands fumbled over the password of his lock screen. He entered it wrong about three times just from his nerves, before he was finally let into his device and dialed for 911. Despite being extremely physically and outwardly panicked, he somehow sounded calm and collected as he talked to the operator. "Yes, hello. We have a man who's fallen unconscious, twenty-four, he's completely unresponsive, breathing, but shallow. He's struggling." He spoke, holding a hand to his head as he fixatedly listened to the woman's further questions. "Pulse... Strong, extremely fast. Yes... Yes-"_

_Dean stayed on the phone the whole time, trying to calm his boyfriend, check if Remy was still alive, and answer the questions to the best of his knowledge the operator had. She complimented him on his level-headed demeanor, a nervous laugh escaping him as he looked back to the other two. This... was the worst day for this to happen. The absolute worst, and it was apparent in the eyes of his lover. Guilt, regret, it was all unmasked, and he could see through any feigned appearances or accusations. A living lie detector, and the most lying he'd ever seen was the lying Roman was showing in his face right now. But, in all truth, whether it was to be believed or not, the next biggest liar in this moment, was none other than himself, as he silently promised that everything would be alright._

_Fifteen minutes. It took fifteen minutes for the ambulance to come, and he was still lifeless, limp almost, and yet still very much alive with the panging of his heart. The EMTs soon rushed out of the slightly ominous vehicle that was flashing harsh reds and blues through the window. They made their way through the door, a stretcher following soon after. Dean... Janus laced his fingers with his love, squeezing his hand lightly. Questions, concerns, fear. They had them all, they had no answers. But one thing stayed in the back of their minds, burning, painfully through the rest of their internal chaos: 'How did it come to this?' Of course, there was no way of telling beforehand- though they both knew something was wrong. 'Don't pry,' they said, 'he's fine,' they lied._

_And now, Roman was getting into the back of an ambulance, with his friend from his High School years. Janus had to stay behind, he technically couldn't just leave work, he needed his manager to come back before he could get off his shift early, and Roman was composed enough at this point to take it from here. He knew more about Remy anyways, from all those years way back when. Still, he did not want to leave them, either of them. Remy for obvious reasons, and Roman for more... complex. Not today, he had to get to the hospital as soon as he could. But as the ambulance pulled away, whisking away his boyfriend and friend of long term, an even more dreaded responsibility was placed on his shoulders._

**_He had to call Emile._ **

_«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»_

_The call, he wasn't expecting it. But Emile knew something was up, he could feel it. Something about leaving for work today felt wrong. It wasn't someone's birthday or anything, was it? He would never forgive himself if he missed another birthday. Or maybe he left the stove on? Remy would turn it off, though, as he'd done for the past... Seventeen times? It wasn't a holiday, was it? National Sleep Day didn't exist, right? Questions and doubts were infiltrating his mind the longer he started to think. As it was his break time, he quietly searched his query up on his computer. Apparently it did, but it was in March. Maybe it was just his imagination, or something so incredibly small he'd laugh about it later when he remembered._

_A knock came on his classroom's door. Odd, he still had fifteen minutes of his break left, most of his students were at lunch. "Come in!" Emile yelled, leaning over his desk slightly to see the silver door knob turning back and forth, before it cracked open with a bit of a squeak. Rosalind, one of his older students, was there, holding her backpack in her hand. "Ross! What can I do you for?" The teacher spoke, a goofy grin on his face. "Do you need my help in the quest to bring the world into balance again?"_

_"No thanks, Aang. I'm leaving early, doctor's appointment. Mrs. Deblanche told me to tell you that you're needed in the office on my way out, said it's urgent." The girl spoke, taking her books out of her desk and stuffing them into her bag. She had that look in her eye, the one where kids wanted to know what the drama was, but didn't want to outright say it. The look that every kid had at least once in their adolescence. But, she had to leave, so she couldn't pry any further. "Welp, see ya tomorrow, teach." She spoke turning on her heels and heading straight back out the way she came without another word. A brief interaction, but an unsettling one._

_Urgent? Urgent as in how? Urgent as in one of his students did something horrible or urgent as in a threat? No, it couldn't be the latter, there would have been an announcement. Don't tell him something happened in his... personal life? Now visibly a little nerve-stricken, he stood up from his desk, not bothering to clean up his grading sheets as he walked into the hallway and locked his classroom door from the outside. He was prepared, in all his years of teaching he had gone through three small fires, seventeen fights, thirty-two student breakdowns, several drug busts, and even a knife being pulled to his throat once. Thank god for metal detectors, that had never happened since they were implemented. Whatever the challenge, he was ready for it._

_Walking through the corridors, he got high-fives from kids of all different grades. It was a rule of thumb that you'd have to have Mr. Picani at least once in your school experience. He was an English teacher, and he was arguably the most iconic one at that. Half of the days he walked in with a ukulele rendition of a cartoon theme, and the first to guess what the song was got bonus points on their test. Was he a bit proud of his legacy as the crazy cartoon teacher? Yes, yes he was, especially since most of his kids became straight A students by the second semester. There were always a few of the bunch who needed a bit more guidance, or sometimes worse, but overall he was a good teacher with a good reputation and a good record of scores on standardized testing. He loved his job, except when things like this happened, always leaving him guessing as to just what he was walking into._

_As he opened the office doors, he said his polite greetings to the guys at the front desk as he was about to ask why he was called in. Just then, Mrs. Deblanche, the school's principal, walked in from the right, her office was in a separate room than the rest of the general office. She was on the phone, a bit of an unreadable expression on her face. "Yes, yes we've sent for him and- oh well he's right here! Bear with me for just a moment sir." The woman spoke, soon taking the device away from her ear and looking at Emile. "Picani, you've got a call. Someone identifying as Janus from your emergency contacts is asking for you, he says there's been an incident." She explained, holding out the phone for Emile to take._

_An... incident? Without hesitation, the teacher took the phone out of his boss's hand and held it to his ear. A bit of a more serious tone than the happy-go-lucky normally displayed was taking over his entire demeanor. "Dee?" He asked, now straight faced. He didn't answer, not at first. Did the call get disconnected? That only seemed to unsettle him more. Something wasn't right. Something wasn't right about any of this. "Hello? Dean? Are you there?" The hallway was empty now, the reception was probably bad in here. He mouthed a quick, 'I'll be right back' to his supervisor who nodded in response. Then, he headed just outside the office main doors to speak alone. The previously bustling corridors were now darker and emptier than he remembered._

_Finally, he got a signal back, "Emile?"_

_"Yes, I'm here. What's going on?"_

_Hearing an audible sigh from the other end of the line had him worried as the other continued. "Emile, listen carefully to what I'm going to tell you." The barista instructed, doing his best to stay calm, as he hoped his friend would at the news. The unintentional suspense was definitely not helping, though. It was like someone was pulling a string on his heart, slowly and painfully. No matter how much Dean didn't want to say it, he knew he had to get to the point. "You need to leave work." He started again, though still seemingly vague. It was an unfortunate part of his personality, sometimes. "Let me be blunt, it's about Remy. He's being taken to the hospital."_

_A thousand pieces of a glass core inside of Emile shattered, leaving behind only shards of sharp design that scratched away at him with every thought, every possibility racing through his mind. "He's... He's what?" A hand clasped against his mouth as muffled words slipped through his fingertips to the other on call. It couldn't be. Not Remy. Not his strong, invincible runway ready lover. It had to- it had to be serious if it was Dean calling instead of Remy, and an ambulance... If he broke something he would have texted, he never puts down his phone. If he were able to, he would have told it himself. But this wasn't the case- was it? "Is it serious? What's going on Dean?"_

_"I'll explain when we get there, frankly I don't even know much. But he's breathing, for now. I can tell you that." The other spoke, already taking his jacket from the backroom as his co-worker walked into the shop. "I'm coming to pick you up, okay? Do whatever you need to do, I'll be there in fifteen minutes." Dean briefed, frequently cutting in and out as he talked to his manager outside of the call. "Roman told me they're going to the East Cadellian Hospital, and I don't want you driving that far alone. Got it? Wait for me."_

_"Yeah- Yeah okay. I'll be ready." Emile promised, already turning to return his boss's phone and notify her of the situation. "Pull up to the side entrance, it leads right to the highway." The teacher spoke, frantically swinging the doors he just went through back open. "Okay. I'll meet you outside." Eyes of his co-workers stared at him as he hung up the phone. Not a second to leave, he blurted out, "I need to leave, now. It's an emergency." It was directed to no one particular, but everyone seemed to get the memo. It was the first time he'd ever done this, hopefully he didn't have to sign or do anything._

_"Say no more." The principal expressed, turning to one of the guys at the desk. "Get Alastor to cover his classes for the rest of the day." A certain sternness in her voice softened as she seemed to understand what roughly was going on. No one had ever seen Emile so- visibly distraught, so it was politely obvious that there was something of the unfortunate category going on. "Picani, you're free to go. Take care, don't worry about things here. We've got it handled. Go get whatever you need from your room, I'll give the substitute the spare key."_

_"Thank you. Thank you so much." The teacher mumbled. Then, he was- not running because that was against school policy, just merely sprinting his way back to his room to grab his bag. What did he need... phone, keys, ID? Was that it? Obviously he didn't need his lesson plan- coat, that's what he was forgetting. It was chilly outside, being that it was October. Remy bought him that coat too, he needed to be wearing it. Wallet, can't forget that, what else did he need? Was that it? Technically he could come back for anything important later. What he needed to focus on was getting to his boyfriend's side, because he did not like the sound of, "He's breathing," without further context. He was left guessing all the possible things that could have happened. Motorcycle accident... heart attack... anaphylaxis... stroke... the plague? Was that too far fetched? Did the plague still exist?_

_He got outside, almost falling on his face due to forgetting there was a step down from the door. It was definitely cold, so he wrapped his coat that was previously draped against his arm around his shoulders and buttoning up. He was a cardigan wearing guy, and Remy always told him a cardigan with a trench coat made the style work, made him look 'fly' or 'hip' as the kids said- although Remy told him to never use those words in public. Remy... Remy... Remy... He was the only thing on the teacher's mind. Their iconic date nights of watching a cartoon cuddled up on the couch, or Remy doing his makeup in all sorts of bright colors one day, and a bold neutral look with eyelashes that were probably bigger than his actual eye the next. He didn't want to lose that. He wasn't going to lose it anyways! He couldn't think about the worst case scenario for everything, that was a bad mental place to be in, he knew that better than anyone after helping kids in his office with the same problem time and time again. And yet a certain pain of ambiguity singed through him, slowly, as he waited in the frosty air for a car to arrive._

_It came, late, an extra fifteen minutes late at that. Emile watched a pretty beaten up and sputtering blue van slowly inch its way into a parking spot. Dean cursed as he opened the door, and soon forcefully kicked it shut, which hurt more than he thought it would. Nudging off his careless act, he flagged down Emile to his spot. "Sorry I'm late. The van is being a bitch at the worst time." The barista grumbled, "I'm not sure we're gonna make it up there within the hour. We can call for an Uber or something-"_

_"Leave it here, we'll take my car! They'll tow yours out after six anyways if we can't get it to move!" Emile shouted, slapping his car keys in Janus's hands._

_The other rolled his eyes, "Yes thank you for shouting directly in the ear of your designated driver." The second language of sarcasm was shining through. Though as he stared into the panicked gaze of Remy's lover, whom he'd been acquainted with for some time now, a wave of guilt went through him. After all, if it were Roman instead of Remy, he'd be the same way, if not meaner and more aggressive. Emile was- soft, so to see him worked up like this in a genuinely scary situation was justifiable he supposed. He wanted to apologize, but he bit his tongue, for now at least._

_The two made their way over to a plush pink convertible, with white accents, and a whole lot of cartoonish stickers lined on the back. Dean wasn't even going to ask, because he honestly expected something even more standout prone, and of course Remy wanted to spend his money on his boyfriend. No, not spend on him, flex on everyone else. So, here was Dean Avangate, the notorious, underpaid barista with a degree relating to politics, sitting in the front seat of a decked out pink convertible that had different color ties stuffed into the glovebox. He obviously, most definitely, absolutely did not feel kind of badass. No way. He turned the key into the ignition and clasped his hands against the steering wheel. "Hold on tight," The male warned, backing out and taking a sharp turn at the speed of light, leaving the tires squelching against the pavement, and leaving a trail of tire tracks behind._

_"I thought you were the designated driver because I would be breaking the speed limits out of fear! You're breaking the speed limits out of spite!" The teacher yelled, holding onto his seat for dear life- he didn't even strap himself in yet. At least they weren't doing flips or jumps of certain death like the movies, that would be taking it too far. Fiddling with his seat belt as every law abiding citizen should, he finally snapped the buckle into place and sighed. "If we get in an accident while going to the hospital, that would be... really ironic!"_

_«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»_

_They sat in silence for most of the ride. Emile did his best to stay calm, while Dean did his best to stay calm and not swerve off the road. But there was still an explanation to be had, and though Emile respected Dean's boundaries and wanted him to say these types of things when he was comfortable, this was Remy's life that was possibly at risk here, and he had no insights on the situation other than, "He's breathing." It poked and pried at him every time he ran the words through his mind. What did 'breathing' mean? Why did breathing matter so much about his condition?_

_The other seemed to pick up on the teacher's worries. Seeing there was no one else on the road, it was a shortcut just off the highway, so it wasn't an odd feat, Dean looked his acquaintance in the eye, briefly, a bit of sympathy showing. "He passed out in the coffee shop I work at. He told me and Roman that he slept for sixteen hours, and he was still tired. Is that normal for him, Em?" The driver asked, though shifting his gaze back to the road. As he was advised, he did not feel like having his own life in danger thanks to his carelessness._

_"He's... He's a heavy sleeper, and he does get a lot of sleep, but sixteen hours isn't like him, especially if he was still tired afterwards. He was somewhat awake this morning when I went to work. He gets whiny when I leave the bed. But he seemed to shrug it off this time. I should've known something was up..." Emile explained, a bit remorsefully. "I mean- I know it's crazy. I shouldn't hold myself accountable for that. But I just kind of knew, the whole day, that something was going to happen."_

_"Your boyfriend senses were tingling?" Dean smirked, "I get the feeling. When Roman broke his leg on stage back when the theater did The Phantom of the Opera- and I can't say I didn't yell at him for hours as every actor should know that when someone says, 'break a leg', they do not mean do it literally- I knew right before he went on that it was a bad idea sending him off. Today I had the same feeling, but I assumed I knew why for... Different reasons. This was not what I was expecting, though." He seemed to be trying to lighten the mood, and Emile gave him a half-hearted smile, at the very least appreciating his efforts, considering he knew Dee was not the best at empathy, or anything of the sort. As if on cue, his tone darkened. "He was clutching at his chest when he went down, sounded like he wasn't able to breathe much either. I thought he was having a heart attack, being honest. He still had a pulse, though. I just hope that wasn't just the early stages of it, and it's just something minor."_

_"I hope that he's okay, this isn't the first time something like this happened, but from what you described, last time was less intense. He just went down without much of a warning."_

_Dean bit the inner corner of his lip, which was a bad idea, as the car went over a bump almost immediately, and his teeth bit down much harder. That would hurt for a while. "So this has happened before?" The barista asked, quietly. "That's- well did they say anything about last time? Was it serious?"_

_The blond-ish brunette shook his head, which he knew the driver couldn't see. "No," The school teacher breathed out, "They said it was dehydration, they didn't find anything on the blood test, and he's young, so they didn't expect it to be anything that needed more looking into. I didn't either, but it scared me half to death to see him fall on the runway." Emile scratched the back of his neck, guilt now almost taking over every inch of his physical expressions. He was- he felt bad that he hadn't noticed that something else was going on. It wasn't his fault, he understood that, especially because he had a certain inclination towards mental health and helping the people around him, but even so, it couldn't be helped that he was going to be a bit inconsolable until he saw his partner was okay with his own eyes._

_In the distance, a large building stood, white exterior and sky blue, tinted, transparent windows that were see-through enough that one could see the outlines of people walking through the hallways. Distance melted into closeness as the car approached said building's parking lot. As soon as the keys were taken out of the vehicle, Emile was leaping out of it, heading towards the double, automatic doors. They already knew where Remy was being held, Roman had texted Dean midway through the ride with the room number. Elevators were never fast enough, so the teacher opted for the stairs. The fifth floor definitely was far up, but whether it be on adrenaline or secret strength, the duo ascended all of them in record time. Though it still felt like forever. Like a never-ending stairwell, a personal torture device, a cruel illusion._

_They got just outside the door, and while panting from the adventure they had just endured, Dean knocked, ever so /politely/. It was more like banging, banging on a bathroom stall when someone was taking too long. "Just a minute!" Someone called, in a bit of a startled tone, which prompted a glare from Emile directed at the barista for his interruption. A woman in nurse's scrubs appeared at the entrance, and after confirming their purpose, quickly ushered them inside though seemingly a bit annoyed._

_Roman was sitting in a chair to the left, holding his head in his hands, staring at his friend, still lying with his eyes snapped shut on a white bed. He hadn't even noticed the other two come in, not immediately at least. It was like he was zoned out, or entirely focused, one of the two. Dean sat beside him, taking one of his hands in his and gently rubbing atop his palm, which seemed to snap the performer out of his daze. "Oh, you're here." Roman hummed, his whole demeanor seeming to brighten up. The male stood up from his chair, walking over to stand by his lover, and gesturing for Emile to take his place. "Go ahead, Emile. He's settling down now, his heart rate was through the roof, but they did something so it's slowing down."_

_The teacher only nodded before going to be seated beside Remy. He took one of his hands in his, sighing. "Hey there, Nightlight. I'm here now, I'm here for you." Emile whispered, holding the other's hand to his forehead. He could feel- thumping. A faint thumping throughout his whole hand, though it was certainly there. He could feel his heartbeat in his hand, it almost hurt to think about. Was it hurting him? Was he in pain? He was asleep, but could he still feel it? What could he do, what could the hospital do to make this stop? "I hope you're doing okay, Starshine."_

_The same hand he held tight in his hand twitched, ever so slightly. Almost as fast as he'd gone down, his eyes were revealed. They looked tired, so tired. Luckily, he was still relatively stable, and seemed to be calm. Emile couldn't tell if he was really even awake or not. But he sat up, slowly, not saying a word, not even reacting much. He folded his hands, leaving Emile's own cold, and lonesome. He was awake, but not alive. The nurse that had led him in came over, a plastic clipboard in hand. She had a smile on her face, an over-convincing smile at that, like she was trying too hard to be friendly. "Hello sir. My name is Fiona. Can you tell me your name and age?"_

_Remy looked over his shoulder, seemingly at the desk to his right. His hand reached around for his sunglasses, and after a few failed tries of retrieving them, he had a grip, and pulled them onto his face. Only then did he answer. "Remy. Remy Aislynn. I'm twenty-four." The model voiced, looking around the room, though it seemed the color began to drain from his face as he recognized where he was, and just who was sitting across from him. "...Emile?"_

_The woman interjected, sternly, "Mr. Aislynn. You fell unconcious." She grabbed ahold of his bed, folding up the railings on the side. That wasn't good, was it? "We'd like to do some scans and further testing, you may have a serious problem that we'd like to address right away. Please relax, we're going to take you to our CT room.”_

_Remy sat up, holding onto the same railings that were now keeping him confined in his prison of a bed. "Emile? Emile what's going on?!" He asked, breathlessly. "Emile what's happening?!"_

**_╭┉┉┅┄┄┈•◦•◦❥•_**

**_"...I don't know. But you have to go, love."_ **

**_i••◦❥•◦•┈┄┄┅┉┉╯_ **

**_𝐓𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐮𝐞𝐝..?_ **

**_.˚ ᵎ┊_**

**_⋆* ❤︎ ⁺⑅_ **

**Author's Note:**

> So, I'm back. Want to know what was keeping me away for so long?  
> This story. No, not the story itself, the story behind the story. The real events. I've gotten so many questions about my condition and what it's like living as someone with a chronic condition, and therefore, I will be telling all of that in this series, but that will come in time. I have no estimates of how long this will be, other than it will range somewhere between 2-5 parts. I originally planned to release this as a single oneshot, but considering it's taken 10k words to get to the real beginning, I realized that it would be insane to keep it such way.  
> So here we are. I'm a bit hesitant to see how this is received, but I do hope that you've enjoyed it thus far, and will await the reveal of the rest of the tale I've conjured up in my mind. To my loyal readers, and the countless friends who've helped me stay sane for this long, thank you.  
> I was going to give shout outs to you individually but, come on, you know who you are.  
> Until the next time, take it easy my Ladies, Lords, and Non-Binary RoyalTae.


End file.
